


Burdens Bared

by KeiranTDO



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Can be romantic or platonic, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 14:09:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14021949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeiranTDO/pseuds/KeiranTDO
Summary: Sometimes history repeats, with different results or continued ones.





	Burdens Bared

**Author's Note:**

> the visuals i think of for Sokrates are because of @drowzydruzy on twitter, so thank you

Sokrates bounced to the bridge, laughing under their breath as they barely dodged people on their way. Their half-skirt fluttered around their legs as they grinned, no one paying enough attention to flinch back from shark-teeth.

The Apostolosian paused at the doors to straighten out their glasses and pulled wild hair out of their face before walking in, pushing their chest up and out to imitate the humans as they ran a finger through the edge of their gills.

"Oh Captain, my Captain!" Sokrates called loudly and laughed as Orth jolted in his seat, he'd been staring off into the middle distance, "How's the deep-darkness of the star-void treating you?" They grin as he sighed, Orth never flinched at their teeth, just their loudness and suddenness. He didn't care they were different.

"What do you need?" Orth mumbled, running his hand down his face. Sokrates couldn't help but notice the shimmer of scars on his hands, working hands, ones that don't care if they got hurt trying to hold everything together.

They spoke softer as they sat gently on the arm of his seat, trying not to laugh at the man sitting straighter, dark eyes on their face, "I don't need anything right now, promise. I just wanted to see how you're holding up, boss." They wanted his eyes forever. Watch me watch me, I can help, I know you know I'm smart enough.

Orth shrugged, his shoulders dropping, broad, heavy, tired. "I'm trying to lead us to survive, I'm not the one you should be concerned about."

Sokrates reached forward, amber-scaled knuckles glowing against, glancing the warm cheek of their captain, he seemed so young sometimes. "You hold our lives on your shoulders, it shouldn't be your burden alone," they told him and then grinned, gentler this time, "The unhappiness you carry, I can carry half of it for you."

Orth looked at them for a moment and didn't speak. He leaned against Sokrates' hand, taking for just a moment.

\--

Orth walked in a straight line, face still under his sunglasses as soldiers, not his own, not OriCon but Demarchy soldiers bolted to salute and get out of his way. A few pointed him to his query without a word but with smiles he didn't understand.

He watched Sokrates from the arc before moving, they looked... Different, in not the best ways. They looked like they lost a lot of weight, like they were much paler, making amber scales much more visible. It was their hair that stopped him.

Where once there had been wild curls down to their shoulder blades, a harsh line had been cut into this Sokrates. It was like they had grabbed their ponytail and cut it off with an army knife. A few long locks around the front but at the back almost shaven, showing the blinking blue lights in Integrity's hull. Scarring away from it to wrap around Sokrates' neck in a vice.

They turned before he could gather himself to speak, words making Orth's mouth dry. "It's been a long time, my Captain." Their smile was smaller, showing no teeth, glowing eyes half closed and Orth had to keep himself from gasping.

"It has," he said, walking forward, noting the height difference hadn't changed. "Many things have changed, the burdens hand changed hands over and over." He touched his own throat, watching as Sokrates reached and ran fingers along bisected gills.

"They have," Socrates said, trying to chirp and be up-beat, trying to give and keep in the eye. "So what do you think? Think Ibex would think me Idyllic now?" They looked, so much older.

"Perhaps, but, maybe Idealism isn't as bad as Ibex always put it out to be," Orth reached his hand up to Sokrates' cheek but did not touch, "Perhaps now that idealism can bring brilliance, instead of burden. Would you allow my assistance?"

Sokrates met Orth, cheek to hand, smile widening, teeth showing for the first time. "What do you want back?" they tease, one eye open, trusting him to not ask what they couldn't give.

"Just, let me... The unhappiness you carry, I can carry half of it for you."


End file.
